


The Lasagna!

by fuck_the_birds



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babysitting, F/M, Give me parents!memori or give me death, Murphy can cook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuck_the_birds/pseuds/fuck_the_birds
Summary: Clarke and Bellamy go out of town, leaving Madi with Murphy and Emori.Murphy promises to behave.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Emori & Madi (The 100), Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Madi & John Murphy (The 100)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	The Lasagna!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emilywritesfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilywritesfics/gifts).



> thank you for the prompt and donation! <3
> 
> also, thank you [all_soul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_soul) for betaing!

Madi hikes her duffel bag further up her shoulder, walking ahead of Clarke and Bellamy down the apartment building’s dimly lit hallway. 

Her phone vibrates persistently in her front pocket with Hope and Jordan’s ongoing group chat debate over the consequences of eating a crayon. Madi has her own list of thoughts on the matter, of course, but she’s saving it for when she has a chance to look at her phone.

She comes to a stop in front of the door at the end of the hall, and doesn’t wait for Clarke and Bellamy to catch up before rapid-fire pressing the doorbell, pausing only to giggle when she hears Murphy’s loud grumbles within the apartment at the sound.

Clarke’s exasperated sigh comes from behind her, in opposed to Bellamy’s snort.

Madi makes sure her smile is extra innocent when Murphy opens the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

“Hobbit,” he deadpans.

“Murphy,” she returns, mimicking his tone.

“Your daughter’s a nuisance,” Murphy says, addressing Clarke and Bellamy over Madi’s shoulder.

Madi hums with satisfaction.

“Revenge for years of having to look out for your ass in college,” Bellamy says, stepping around Madi to bro-hug Murphy. “In the pre-Emori era.”

“Otherwise known as the dark days,” Clarke reminisces with a wink at Madi.

Madi’s heard so much about Clarke and her friends’ life before Clarke adopted her she could have lived through it herself. She knows all about the hell Murphy put her parents through in college before Emori swept in and whipped him into shape, which makes teasing him all the better. 

“Did I hear my name?” Emori’s voice floats from within the apartment, closely followed by its open-armed owner. “Come give me a hug, kid.”

A grin breaks out across Madi’s face as she jumps forward to receive Emori’s hug.

“They’re bullying me,” Murphy says.

“Oh?” Emori replies over Madi’s shoulder.

“About before he met you, so it’s allowed,” Madi explains, untangling herself from the tight embrace.

“Ah.” Emori nods. “In that case, go on.”

“Hey!” Murphy swats playfully at her, accepting defeat when Emori catches his hand and entwines their fingers with a devilish smirk. “Okay, make fun of college me all you want, but has Clarke shown you pictures of Bellamy’s gelled hair back then? I could sell them for a profit to the people who make those joke calendars.”

“Octavia’s already got that covered,” Clarke pitches in. “They’re $6.99 on Amazon.”

“We’re getting one,” Murphy says, turning to Emori.

Emori doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, definitely.”

“The December page better be a pic of him with those girls he used to hook up with for threesomes or I’ll be disappointed in Octavia.”

Madi barks a laugh, but quickly puts on a mask of confusion over the word “threesome” when Clarke lifts her eyebrows. 

“And, that’s where Clarke and I leave,” Bellamy says quickly, cheeks tinged pink. “Otherwise I’ll really start rethinking Clarke and I’s decision to leave Madi in your adult, responsible care.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch them both,” Emori says warmly, tilting her head toward Murphy.

Clarke tugs Madi into her arms, pressing repeated kisses to the top of Madi’s head as Madi squirms and rolls her eyes and Murphy makes a gagging sound.

“Clarke, you’re gonna be gone for one night,” Madi reminds her. 

“I know,” Clarke sighs, finally loosening her bear-grip to brush some hair away from Madi’s face. “I’m just going to miss you so much, it’s your first time sleeping away from home since you’ve come to stay with us...”

“She’s thirteen, she’s with us, she’ll survive.” Murphy steps forward to shove Bellamy and Clarke out the door, which Madi is quietly grateful for; she wasn’t 100% sure Clarke wouldn’t forgo her and Bellamy’s plans to visit Clarke’s friend Wells out of state in order to stay and spend another weekend home with her. Madi loves her mom, however, quoting Raven in a conversation that Madi was unfortunate enough to overhear: “Clarke needs to get laid.” 

Clarke makes a face, lips parting, but Madi steps in to diffuse the situation. “Clarke. Go get dinner with Bellamy, have fun at the fancy hotel--”

“But not too much fun--” Murphy cuts in.

Madi cringes. “Go to the spa. You deserve a break.” Some of the tension leaves Clarke’s expression, but Madi’s come to realize the lingering worry will never completely leave her eyes. “I’ll be fine,” she adds for good measure. “I love you.”

Clarke inhales through her nose, exhaling shortly through her mouth. “I know you will.”

Bellamy’s fist comes over Clarke’s shoulder for Madi to bump.

Madi meets it with her own fist, providing a light explosion sound.

“Dorks,” Murphy coughs behind her.

Bellamy finally manages to usher Clarke out the door, leaving Madi standing with Murphy and Emori in the entryway of their apartment.

“So, kid, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Madi opens her mouth to reply, but pauses when she catches a whiff of the air. “Is something… burning?”

Murphy’s face goes slack for a moment, before reanimating with panic. “Shit, the lasagna!”

He bolts through the living room to the adjoined kitchen, nearly tripping over the umbrella stand he and Emori use to hold plastic lightsabers. 

Madi catches Emori’s eye and the two burst into laughter, Emori throwing an arm around Madi and leading her after Murphy.

“You’re so lucky you get to eat like this every night,” Madi says, setting her fork down after a third helping of heavenly (if a little burnt) lasagna.

“You sound like Bellamy and Clarke starve you,” Murphy jokes, taking a sip of water.

“No! Of course not,” Madi quickly corrects. “Bellamy’s a good cook. And Clarke… tries her best.”

“Clarke should not be allowed within five feet of a kitchen.” Murphy nods.

Emori smiles. “Being engaged to a professional chef has its benefits.” She gives Murphy a _look_ that Madi knows all too well from Bellamy and Clarke, triggering an immediate nose-scrunch that doesn’t go unnoticed by Murphy. He leans in to kiss Emori while making direct eye contact with Madi, who groans. Thankfully, he only ends up making out with Emori’s hand as she shoves his face away.

“Not in front of the children,” she says, standing. Then the _look_ reappears on her face as she leans down and murmurs something in Murphy’s ear. Madi only catches something about “tomorrow night,” but judging by the grin slowly spreading across Murphy’s face she really doesn’t want to know the rest.

Emori straightens, smirking and picking up her and Murphy’s plates. Madi stands with hers, which Emori takes and stacks on top of the other two.

“I can help with the dishes,” Madi offers, but Emori waves her off, going around the counter to the sink.

“Don’t worry about it. John cooks, I clean, you go set up in the bathroom for the business we have to attend to. Did you bring the stuff?”

“Stuff?” Murphy asks, looking between them in confusion as Madi nods.

“Awesome,” is Emori’s reply.

“Care to explain?” Murphy persists, standing and heading over to help Emori with the dishes despite their deal. 

Emori attempts to guard the dishes from his arms snaking around her, giggling and batting him away with a dish towel. Even Madi can’t deny how cute the scene is; it’s the type of thing her friend Jordan, a total romantic, would swoon at. 

“It’s a surprise!” Madi picks her bag up off the couch and takes it into the bathroom, Murphy’s response getting lost in Emori’s laughter. 

“Ah.” Madi turns away from what she’s doing to see Murphy leaning in the doorframe. “So _this_ is the surprise.”

“Yeah, and you just ruined it,” Emori chides, though her tone lacks any bite. She adjusts the plastic showercap that all of her hair is currently tucked into, Madi’s hair tucked into a matching cap. 

“Why are your hands purple?” Murphy asks, regarding Madi’s stained palms and fingers that she is currently trying to wash in the sink. “Aren’t you supposed to use a brush or something?”

“We tried that, but it was inefficient,” Madi explains, frowning in concentration as she scrubs her skin with the bar of soap to no avail. “Just globbing the hair dye on was more fun.”

“I’m guessing this is the first time you two have dyed your own hair?” Out of the corner of her eye, Madi sees Murphy quirk an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

“Did you read the instructions on the box?”

“We skimmed them, but it seemed simple enough,” Emori says, sitting on the ledge of the bathtub and attempting to rinse her own hand, which is also a dark purple. “And before you say anything, you don’t get to judge us for not reading the instructions after the IKEA bed incident.”

“What was the IKEA bed incident?” Madi asks.

“We don’t talk about the IKEA bed incident,” Murphy says, and glances over Madi’s shoulder at her still-purple hands once more. “You used your bare hands to dye each other's hair?”

“Obviously,” says Emori.

Murphy smacks his lips. “Might be a good idea to use gloves next time.”

Madi and Emori gape at each other, Murphy snorting in the silence. The oven timer goes off in the kitchen, the scent of brownies wafting through the apartment, and he departs the bathroom to attend to it.

“Wait, Murphy, you’re getting your hair dyed too,” Madi calls after him, shutting off the faucet and drying her hands with a towel. She sighs at her purple hands. Hope, whose hair is a new color every other month, would call this a rookie mistake.

“I’m good!” He responds.

“Nope, Madi’s right. Don’t think you’re escaping!” Emori adds, catching the towel Madi tosses her. “We’ll get him,” she tells Madi with a grin.

“I can hear you, and no you won’t!” Murphy interjects.

The mischievous glint in Emori’s eye is a reply in itself.

An hour later, with half a batch of brownies reduced to crumbs and the ends of Madi and Emori’s hair dyed purple (and, yes, a strip of Murphy’s hair) the three sit on the couch as Emori flips through channels. 

“What are we feeling?” Emori asks. 

“ _Bee Movie_ ,” Madi and Murphy reply in unison.

Emori sighs. 

Murphy nudges her. “‘Mori’s just mad because we have _taste_ \--”

“Wait.” A news headline going across the bottom of the screen catches Madi’s eye. “Don’t change the channel.”

The newscaster is describing a four-car pileup on a nearby highway. Four people injured, five dead.

“Shit,” Emori breathes. “Isn’t that the route Clarke said they were taking…?” 

Madi’s eyes are glued to the screen, trying to get a glimpse of the cars, but the lighting is bad and one of them is completely unrecognizable, crumpled up against another. The newscaster’s voice sounds warped, a sick feeling settling into the pit of her stomach.

“I’ll call them,” Emori says, reaching over and squeezing Madi’s knee. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’re fine.”

Murphy asks Madi something she’s unable to catch over her heart thundering in her ears. She doesn’t wait around to ask him to repeat himself-- she needs to get _out_. Away from the images of overturned vehicles and flashing ambulance lights on the screen, away from the newscaster tonelessly rattling off details. She jumps to her feet, her breath hitching as she runs into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

She ends up on the floor in front of the bathtub, her knees drawn up to her chest and pressed against her forehead. She squeezes her eyes shut, but she can’t get the images from the TV out of her head. She can’t stop imagining Clarke and Bellamy in one of those cars, cold, bloody, lifeless, being carried into ambulances on a stretcher. A sheet covering their bodies. Just like her biological parents.

A knock on the door jerks her out of her thoughts, but they quickly swallow her up again and she can only manage a choked sob in reply.

“Madi? I’m coming in, okay?”

She hears the door creak open, and a hand touches her shoulder. 

“Hey kid, can you look at me?”

She lifts her eyes to see Murphy squatting in front of her. If her cheeks weren’t already heated from the tears coursing down them, she would flush at him seeing her acting like such a crybaby.

Murphy places his other hand on Madi’s other shoulder, his grip gentle but firm. It’s the only thing Madi can feel, her whole body numb and trembling with fear. It takes Murphy saying “Kid, it’s gonna be okay, but you gotta breathe, alright?” for her to realize that her lungs are frozen. She’s not- she _can’t_ \- get enough air.

She shakes her head, chest spasming, vision blurring.

“Okay,” Murphy says, tone gentle in a way Madi rarely hears it. “Just listen to my voice. You’re gonna breathe with me, okay? In through your nose for four seconds...” He inhales deeply through his nose, Madi copying him, “...hold for four, and out through your mouth. Just like that. Now a few more times, you got this, you’re okay…”

Madi breathes with Murphy until the room stops vibrating and she can breathe on her own again. She swipes at her cheeks with her shirt sleeve. 

“You with me?” Murphy asks, handing her a tissue from the box on the counter.

She nods, sniffling. “Yeah. Sorry I got so freaked out, it’s just...” she’s too exhausted to explain what happened to her biological parents, why she got so scared at the thought of the same thing happening to Clarke and Bellamy that she spiraled out of control. Murphy just nods, seeming to understand.

“Nah, don’t be sorry,” he says. “You had a panic attack. I get them too.”

“You do?” Madi asks, unable to help the surprise that creeps into her tone.

“Yeah,” Murphy shrugs. “They suck, right? But they’re like colds. Even total badasses like you and me get them.”

Madi smiles a bit. 

Emori appears in the doorway, phone in hand. “Hey, I just talked to Clarke. She and Bellamy are both fine. They were already at the hotel when the accident happened. She says if you want you can call her yourself.” Emori takes in Madi’s reddened eyes and drops down beside Murphy. “Oh, sweetie. Come here.”

Murphy releases Madi’s shoulders, allowing her to sink into Emori’s comforting embrace as relief courses through her body. Emori’s scent is always a mixture of vanilla, honey and a hint of motor oil, and Madi allows the scent to envelope and ground her. 

“You okay, kid?” Murphy asks, ruffling her hair lightly.

“Yeah,” Madi says, glancing up at them both. “Thanks. I’m okay now.” She is.

Vanessa pilots a plane alongside Barry the bee on the TV and Emori wholeheartedly loses every ounce of respect she’s ever had for the film industry.

She glances over at John and Madi’s peacefully slumbering forms beside her on the couch, slumped against each other and snoring in tandem. John’s cheek is smushed against Emori’s forearm and Madi is tucked into his side. 

Emori’s heart warms. She readjusts the blanket over two of her favorite people and returns her attention to the ridiculous film they insisted upon, a smile tugging on her lips. 

She can’t wait until they have their own kids.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found [here.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/bee-thegoodguys)


End file.
